


Burdens

by orphan_account



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Developing Relationship, Emotions, Gen, M/M, Unresolved Emotional Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-01
Updated: 2019-08-01
Packaged: 2020-07-28 20:09:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20069854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Rome doesn't see the vast amount of work required to run an empire and is left to handle the fallout when Germania snaps.





	Burdens

**Author's Note:**

> orphaned bc execution. 
> 
> Really I only wanted to write the second half but needed to provide some sort of set up. 
> 
> I do lurk in the comments so if you want to see some more content, drop me a line.

From the outside it looked like an ordinary day. They were on their way to war, as so often, and marched with Rome's army. Rome kept chattering the day away, already dreaming of what he'd do with his new realm. His friend Germania was silent and witdrawn, almost like always, but somethng was different today. 

When the army stopped at their campsite and the subject of scouting ahead came up, of course Rome volunteered them both to go. They were stronger, faster and this way he'd be the first to see what he could conquer. Quietly, Germania followed him. Something bothered him, but Rome was too absorbed into his musings to realize. Eventually they were forced to stop, as the rocky landscape was too dangerous to trek at night. 

“I didn't know this stretch of land was here, but nevermind. Tomorrow is a day of opportunity and valour, my friend.”   
He started a fire and prepared his bedroll, ready to turn in when he felt it. 

Germania stared at him. Unkindly. In the night, far away from other people and his cities, the silence was suddenly unbearable. 

“What?” he asked. 

“You're an unconsiderate fool,” Germania said. Rome – who had been called that and far worse by Germania for almost all his life – turned to face him when he stopped. This was different.   
There was anger in Germania's face, true anger and he didn't know what he'd done to provoke it. His hands were white knuckled holding the fire wood and his face was pale, paler than normal. 

“My friend, what's wrong?” 

Germania glared and it was obvious he resented Rome's question.  
“Are you that blind or don't you care?”

Rome shut his mouth. The tone shocked him. Germania was serious. What had happened?  
“I do care. You're my oldest friend. I... help me see.”

He added a please and regretted it as soon as Germania looked at him with such disdain.

“Where did the fire wood come from? Who killed the rabbits? Who prepared the meal?” Germania started and before Rome could even think of an answer he continued, like a small rock starting a deadly avalanche “Who will keep watch tonight as they've done for the past week? Who found the campsite? Who did everything that you couldn't be bothered to do?!”

Rome couldn't answer. Not because he didn't know the answer – Germania – but because he was dumbfounded. He hadn't noticed. Of course someone had to set up the camp, hunt for dinner, prepare it and keep watch. Embarrassed he looked to his own bedroll, set up with the clear expectation of sleep. Gods, he hadn't even asked Germania. Or thanked him. Germania took care of him and it hadn't occurred to him that...

“I'm sorry.”   
It was a meagre offering, too little too late but he had to start somewhere.   
“I've been an ass, haven't I?”

Germania looked too ready to agree, so he continued himself.  
“I've taken you for granted. I didn't even see the work you do and...”  
Rome felt shame. Deep, squirmy shame that a snake eating him up from the inside.   
Germania's face was neutral, cut off and didn't betray a single emotion.   
“I'm sorry.”  
“'Sorry' doesn't fix this,” Germania said coldly, and he was right. Being sorry or saying sorry was necessary but not enough. Actions were needed. 

“I'll keep watch for both of us.”  
Germania looked deeply into his eyes at that. Rome felt laid bare, as if Germania could see deep into the core of who he was, as if there were no secrets that could escape his gaze. Apparently he found what he had been looking for. Germania yielded. It was first visible in the slump shoulders, then he released a breath and lowered his gaze. He hadn't allowed Rome to see before, but it was evident that he was beyond tired and just exhausted. Guilt welled up inside Rome, unbidden and unwelcome, threatening to drown him. How could he not have noticed that Germania was at the end of his rope? Just how much weight had his friend been carrying before finally snapping? Words couldn't do his apology justice and he didn't trust himself to find the right ones, not when it was of such importance. Rome was climbing up a mountain, could make out the peak and one wrong step, one hand at the wrong place, one word of unintentioned carelessness could make him fall and crash and die. But maybe a word wasn't what was needed anyway. Rome could talk, too much if going by popular opinion. But this wasn't about him, this was about Germania and what he needed and certainly that didn't mean more talking. Instead, Rome raised his hand and clasped Germania's shoulder, hoping feverishly that his touch could convey what he meant, what he needed Germania to understand.   
It worked. Germania was silent – that was his normal, that was good – and briefly placed his hand on Rome's. Message received. Their eyes met and Rome – hopeful, golden but with a firm resolve, brimming with determination – held Germania's gaze. Rome could see trust there and was both joyous and quietly horrified that this was what had been missing for so long. He would show Germania that this trust was not misplaced. That Rome was worthy. 

Then Germania asked “How should we-” and broke off, embarrassed. Close, personal relationships were foreign territory, unexplored and potentially dangerous to him. He never let peple get close and had never learned how to cope with people entering his space and how to behave once that had happened. Rome bit on his lip not to let his fond smile show. “My barbarian” he thought. They weren't children any longer and of course Germania had never slept defenseless when he could help it. 

Rome was briefly overwhelmed, calculating the balance between courtesy, giving Germania his space and what they both needed. He needed to keep his boisterous side in check, to show Germania that he did take his vow seriously, that he understood what great gift and responsibility he was given. What Germania was willing to give up for him. 

Eventually, he sat down on his bedroll and pulled hs sword from its sheath. The golden eagle at the gilt shone in the light of the fire. Rome placed the weapon by his right side, well within his reach and then held up the other hand, inviting. Germania looked at it. There was a brief struggle of emotions on his face. Rome waggled his fingers. At that, Germania couldn't help his eyeroll nor his fond smile. He obliged, sat down next to Rome, folding his tall body until they were sitting side by side. As Germania was sitting about as pliable and responsive as a brick, Rome placed his arm around Germania's shoulders. Gently, but insistingly he tugged until something gave and Germania leant into him. A long line of warmth connected them. Germania's head came to rest on his shoulder when Rome was struck by genius. Using his left arm to anchor Germania, he unclasped his cape with the other and threw it with a great flourish around Germania. Like this, Germania was covered almost head to toe in the red fabric and something stabbed quickly and thinly into Rome's heart. 

“You sentimental fool,” Germania remarked, but there was no bite or accusation in it. His tone was almost grateful but certainly kind. He shuffled once to find a more comfortable position and then settled down to sleep. Rome could feel him relax and just how many centuries had it been since that had been the case? Rome was older and stronger but Germania had taken on the role of faithful and responsible protector until he couldn't bear it anymore. It was now Rome's turn. 

He wanted nothing more than to watch Germania all night, to study how his golden hair looked next to his rich red cape, to count his eyelashes of his closed eyelids, to learn the slope of his relaxed features by heart and to take this moment and stretch it into an eternity. But he had given his word so he allowed himself one – too hurried and too important to miss – glance and made a desperate attempt to burn this image into his mind so that if he perished this would be the last thing he saw, that if he forgot everything who he was or had done, this would be still there. This was now part of his being. I am Rome and I am a trustworthy friend to Germania. Then he turned to his surroundings, closed his right hand around the hilt of his sword and kept watch. Not before long, Germania's breaths evened out and Rome felt himself counting the seconds between them and committed the rhythm to heart.


End file.
